From Hand to Heart
by Maryaminx
Summary: Allison wanted something *more*. Short Allison/Scott fic.


**Title:** From Hand to Heart

**Summary:** Allison wanted something _more._

**Notes:** Written for the kink_bingo prompts sensation play, gags/silence, spaces scenes and settings, uniforms/military kink, and piercings/needleplay. Really, it's piercing fic that I wrote over the space of a couple hours while asking myself wtf I was doing. Any Allison-related concrit is welcome as I'm trying to work on a longfic about her.

* * *

Everyone wears rings. The girl who sits in front of Allison in English has a cheap little band on her left ring finger. She spends entire periods staring at it with a tiny, secretive smile, even though with the way gossip spins round the town of Beacon Hills, it isn't a secret at all.

Lydia has a lot of rings. Some of them are real, presents from her parents or Jackson, with her birthstone set in the top. She wears them on whichever finger she pleases. They are just accessories.

Allison wants something _more._

She wants permanence, crazy as that sounds. She hasn't even graduated from high school, her entire world has changed over the last six months, but this is what she wants.

So she puts the needle in Scott's hand and asks where he wants it.

The skin is tender for days. It would heal faster if she would stop touching it, stop seeking it out with her fingers in the darkness of her bedroom, the sharp press of pain grounding her when the panic seeks her out. How is this her life, she thinks, then distracts herself with thoughts about Scott's hands all over her, tongue laving over the piercing again like he had before.

She tugs her shirt up, right hand sliding across her hipbone, seeking out the J-bar. The bead on the end is amber, and she feels a little silly for it, but it's like having him with her, having him _inside her, _all the time.

It's still cool, and her skin prickles in the chill, nipples hardening under her rucked-up shirt. He'd almost pierced her there, and maybe he still would but they weren't exactly experts and they didn't have the supplies. His eyes had gone wide and he'd said something about Stiles doing this research and _rejection_ and _mastitis_ and she'd smiled and said "Somewhere else, then?"

There's a creak at her window and she shoots up in bed as he slides into the room. She knows he can hear her heart thundering but he can also smell the beginnings of her arousal, see the bunched pajamas and hair knotted around her face.

He smiles and it's sweet, so sweet that she can feel her own cheeks burning in response as he comes to her, slides into bed with her.

"What are you doing here?" she whispers, incredulity mixing with joy at seeing him, as dangerous as him being here, in her bedroom, is.

"I had to see you," he replies, left hand reaching out toward her, sliding over her stomach, thumbing the barbell. The pain is almost all gone, leaving behind nothing but shivery pleasure as his hand slides lower, pushes more firmly on her abdomen. She spreads her legs easily, inviting him.

He moves to settle himself between her thighs and she catches a whiff of the forest and leather around him. He's wearing one of those jackets and it takes a moment to bite back a bright little laugh at it. He pouts at her but she pulls him down to her, running a hand over the leather.

"I like it," she murmurs. She does. It marks him as being part of something, something she's not a part of yet, maybe won't ever be, but she likes it. It's the air of danger it brings, like it should be accompanied by gun oil and the snap of winter cold, but it's comforting. It's the new normal, and it feels more safe than it had before she knew anything about the things that go bump in the night.

They have to be more than quiet, so she hushes him even as he discards the jacket beside the bed and she pulls her shirt off over her head. He gets tangled up in the rest of his clothes and the giggles are harder to control, at least in the car they didn't have to be quiet, but it feels I_right/I. _She can't believe they're doing this in her parents' house, just a few doors down from her mother and all of her mother's knives, but it's a rush of adrenaline all the same.

She bites her lip as he lowers himself back down. His skin is smooth across his chest and she's teased him enough about his perfect abs so she keeps silent now. The gentle mockery makes him blush and duck his head, but she wants them against her now, skin to skin, catching on her piercing. The thought makes her warm and then hot as he runs his hands over her, between her legs, encouraging the wetness there.

_Come on,_ she doesn't say, pleading with her eyes as he fumbles with the condom wrapper. His hands aren't quite shaking and she can smell the arousal in the air even with her simple human nose. The silence just makes everything _more,_ and she grips his arms as he pushes in. He takes a moment to settle, to let her adjust, both their chests heaving.

When he starts to move, the pace is quick but measured. She hadn't had sex before him but being a werewolf must have changed him, given him some measure of stamina and ironically, of control. He is more than just a teenage boy, and holds himself more tightly than he must have before, keeping a firm grip on his control. She can still see his eyes sparking, fangs elongating even as his fingers stay blunt and human against the softness of her breasts.

Even as she relaxes into the movement he shifts his position, one hand bracing him up, the other going to her navel as he jerks his hips in tighter, grinding down into her. The tug on the barbell goes straight to her clit, a little shiver of pain curving through her stomach down to where he's pushing into her. She gasps, mouth falling open, eyes clenching shut as her world narrows down to Scott, to his dick, to the growing ache between her legs and then she's coming.

She almost makes a noise but he covers her mouth with his own, teeth human-smooth as he licks his way inside. Her body shudders with the sensation, the hand at her waist going to her breast and she thinks, _That one next, _until his movements become jerky and he stills against her.

They lay together, panting into the darkness for a few moments. She's smiling, lips feeling overly-tender and bruised, her muscles a little tight, but she's happy. Even when he kisses her one last time and slips back outside, taking the used condom with her and leaving the window open, she feels settled.

He's still here, with her, _inside her,_ and she can go back to sleep.


End file.
